


Venus

by SherlockWolf



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Agender Castiel (Supernatural), Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, Dean Hates Witches, Dean's Top 13 Zepp Traxx Mixtape, First Kiss, Gen, Genderfluid Castiel (Supernatural), Genderswap, Love Confessions, M/M, Spells & Enchantments, Witch Curses
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-13
Updated: 2018-04-18
Packaged: 2019-03-30 16:24:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 14,642
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13955436
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SherlockWolf/pseuds/SherlockWolf
Summary: Castiel handles something he shouldn't have which has an unintended consequence that the team must find a solution to.





	1. Chapter 1

    “Hey um, Dean?”

    Dean looked up from the newspaper he was reading while waiting for waffles to cook to find Sam standing in the doorway of the kitchen. His little brother looked like he’d battled a moose in his sleep, with pillow-lines on his face and his hair piled like a mop on his head. He’d probably just woken up.

    “Yes…?”

    “Um, have you talked to Cas yet today?”

    “No.” Dean himself had only been awake for an hour, and after tapping on Cas’ door a few times to no avail, had been the first one in the kitchen, where he’d brewed coffee and mixed waffle batter.

    Sam shifted, looked down at his feet, then said, “I think you should.”

    Sam sounded wigged out, implying that Cas had said or done something weird. Which wasn’t out of the ordinary, but Sam drawing Dean’s attention to whatever Cas had done stood out. Something bad had happened.

    _Play it cool._ Dean thought.

    “Why? His feathers on fire?”

    “No, I just uh…Look,” Sam sighed like he didn’t want to tell Dean what had happened, which was another bad sign.

    “Don’t freak out,” Okay, Dean was definitely gonna freak out, “But Cas’ body got switched. He’s uh…a woman, now.”

    Dean let the newspaper fall from his hands.

    “He _what?”_ His voice did _not_ squeak as he stood and pushed passed Sam.

    “Library!” Sam called out as Dean instinctively headed toward Cas’ room.

    Dean spun around and headed for the library, calling back for Sam to finish with the waffles. It took a few moments of searching between the shelves before he found what—who—he was looking for. The woman standing there in Cas’ trench coat. She was small, the coat almost reaching her ankles, and the rest of Cas’ clothing was loose on her smaller frame. Her long dark brown hair cascaded in ringlets that fluffed against the crest of Cas’ shirt. She looked up at him from her book with bright blue eyes. Her face was reminiscent of Emma Watson.

    Goddamnit, why was Dean’s life so freakin’ weird?

    “Hello Dean.” Cas said, voice all wrong but tone completely calm, as though he hadn’t noticed something was wrong.

    Which, given that he was an angel in a borrowed body in the first place, the guy probably wasn’t even fazed.

    “Cas, what the hell?” Dean asked.

    “I don’t know.” Cas replied with a shrug.

    The angel flipped through his book at hyper speed, then put it back with a frown. Dean rolled his eyes, stepped forward, and placed a hand on Cas’ shoulder. The nerd was probably just gonna keep perusing for books unless Dean stopped him. Cas looked up at him, and Dean found the new height difference very unnerving. He was used to those blues at eye-level, and the change lit them differently. Dean didn’t like it.

    “Dude, seriously. This isn’t nothing. Did you get cursed?”

    Cas shrugged and said defensively, “I _don’t know_. I’m searching for the answer.”

    As though to illustrate his point, Cas took a new book from the shelf and began to read.

    “Tell me how this happened.” Dean insisted, realizing his hand was still on Cas and letting it drop.

    Dean didn’t miss how Cas’ eyes tracked the movement.

    “I was in my room, then I felt this weird burning, then my body changed.” The angel explained as though describing the anatomy of a blade of grass.

    “Okay. _Sounds_ like a curse. Did you look for hex bags?” Dean asked, trying not to be annoyed at Cas’ blatant lack of interest in Dean’s questions.

    “Yes.” Cas sighed, returning this book to the shelf and turning to fully face Dean.

    The angel glared up at him for a moment before letting his disappointment finally show on his face.

    “I found nothing.”

    Dean didn’t like the sound of that, but he was glad that Cas was actually affected by what had happened to him.

    “We’ll need to check the whole bunker.”

    “If it were somewhere else, either you or Sam, or both, would also be affected.” Cas countered.

    That was a fair assumption. Dean wasn’t sure what else could’ve happened, though. Unless there was an artifact lying around the bunker that Cas had bumped into…

    Dean’s stomach growled, reminding him that there were waffles waiting in the kitchen.

    “Did you get your coffee yet?” Dean asked, deciding that they could continue this discussion over breakfast.

    “No. This was a more pressing issue.”

    Cas followed Dean to the kitchen, too-big shoes clunking loudly against the floor. Dean was able to withstand the noise for exactly five seconds before he rolled his eyes to the ceiling and halted their procession. He turned around abruptly, causing Cas to crash right into him. The angel reeled backward to get out of Dean’s space, but the disproportion of feet-to-shoes threw him off balance.

    Luckily Dean caught him by the arm and hauled him upright. The consequence of this was, of course, that Cas was right back in Dean’s personal bubble. And because boobs weren’t exactly flat, any and all illusion of personal space was gone.

    This was officially going on Dean’s list of _worst days ever_.

    Dean took a step back as he steadied Cas, who was flustered from his own clumsiness.

    “Sorry.” The angel muttered, glaring at his shoes.

    “It was my bad, Cas. Let’s get you some different clothes first.”

    “But the waffles will get cold.” Cas pouted, looking up at Dean.

    His pouting face did not look right.

    “Nope. Clothes.” Dean said, then dragged Cas by the arm to his room.

    Dean left the angel standing by his bed while he rifled through his dresser for drawstring pj pants and a tee-shirt that was loose even on himself. When he turned around, he found Cas folding his jackets over Dean’s desk chair. He kept shoving the long hair out of his face, but it slipped back seconds after. Dean resolved to fetch Cas a hair tie.

    “Here, change into these, just leave your shoes in here, and meet me in the kitchen.” He said, handing Cas the clothes.

    “Thank you, Dean.” Cas said, letting some of his exasperation with the hair-battle into his voice.

    Dean clapped a hand on Cas’ shoulder then went to the bathroom to hunt down one of Sam’s hair ties. He knew his brother kept some somewhere, but it took him longer than expected to find them tucked in the back of Sam’s cabinet.

    He rejoined his family in the kitchen where Cas was piling strawberries on his waffle and Sam was chewing on a bowl of granola.

    “I made waffles, bitch.” Dean grumbled, leaning against the doorframe while he waited for Cas to sit.

    “And I made granola, jerk.” Sam sassed through crunchy bites.

    Cas sat across from Sam, and Dean told him to hold still for a moment. The angel went rigid, looking over his shoulder at Dean with evident confusion.

    “Face Sam.” Dean said as he stood behind Cas.

    Proximity between himself and Cas always threw sparks between their bodies, like one of those lightning balls Dean had seen in _Spencers_. Dean didn’t make a habit of standing behind the angel, because right now the sparks were outrageous. This kind of closeness implied a kind of intimacy they didn’t share.

    When he was still, Dean gathered Cas’ hair up and wound the hair tie around with practiced hands, leaving Cas’ hair in a loose but functional bun. Lisa liked to wear her hair that way on Saturdays.

    “There you go, bud.” Dean said, then went off to get his own waffles.

    He had to blatantly ignore Sam’s staring, especially when he sat next to Cas. But the angel was happy to have his face free of hair, which was all that mattered. Sam could judge all he wanted.

    “So,” Sam cleared his throat, “Any ideas of what happened?”

    Dean brought up his idea of a cursed object, and the decision was made to search for one after breakfast. Cas did remember handling something out of the ordinary yesterday while helping with inventory, so they figured they’d start with that.

    The object in question was in the basement storage, in a little box labeled “change body” in Faroese. Dean couldn’t help the scoff that came out when Cas read the name.

    “Seriously? And that didn’t raise any red flags?”

    “I assumed it was related to shape shifting.” Cas gave him a long-suffering glare.

    “Well, let’s see it.” Sam said before they could continue bickering.

    Cas lifted the lid, revealing a small rock figurine. Sam reached around Dean to take the box from Cas and observe the carving.

    “It’s a Venus Figure.” Sam said with excitement.

    Dean had heard of the little Paleolithic carvings of women’s bodies. He’d read recently that they were carved by the women themselves, as sort-of self-portraits. They were amazing works of art.

    “It’s probably cursed, then. If you touch it you turn into a woman, if you aren’t already one?” Dean mused.

    “Most likely.” Cas agreed.

    “Sounds like we call Rowena.” Sam said, digging his phone from his back pocket.

    “Yeah, and she’s gonna be so _excited_ to answer the phone after she duped you out of that spell.” Dean snapped.

    “Do you know any other witches?” Sam replied, dialing Rowena’s number on his phone.

    Dean didn’t, so he kept his mouth shut. He turned his attention to Cas, who was placing the box back where he’d found it. He was fumbling with the new size of his hands. Dean wondered how long it was going to take for him to adjust, which made him wonder how long Cas was gonna be stuck like this. What if there wasn’t a cure?

    Dean didn’t know why the idea bothered him so much. In fact, he’d purposefully avoided thinking about why he wasn’t enthused about this curse.

    “Hey, Rowena?” Sam’s voice broke Dean from his reverie.

    Apparently she _was_ going to talk to them.

   “Listen, Sam, if this is about that page—.” Rowena said hurriedly over speakerphone, but Sam cut her off.

    “Uh, no. We have an object we think might be cursed and wanted your input.” Sam locked eyes with Dean and stuck his tongue out to say _I told you so._

    “Ooo, valuing my input are we? I like this. What object?” Rowena crowed.

    “A Venus figure, we think it turned Cas’ body into a woman.” Dean interjected.

    “Hmmm…Yes, I believe I know who made that particular beauty. I assume you’re calling because you want to reverse the spell?” Rowena sounded like she was a little disbelieving of their motive.

    “Uh, yeah.” Sam said.

    “I would’ve thought Deanie would be over the moon about it. Ah, well. There is a solution, but it requires my finding some ingredients. I’ll see you boys in a few days.”

    Rowena hung up. Dean knew he had to speak first or the conversation would go somewhere he absolutely did _not_ want it to go.

    “Great, now we’re in limbo. Who knows if she’ll even show up,” Dean grumbled, adding, “witches,” under his breath.

    “What did she mean by that?” Sam asked, putting his phone away.

    “Jeeze, who knows, maybe a week? Two?” Dean replied hastily.

    But not hastily enough.

    “I think she was implying that Dean would be attracted to my body.” Cas said indifferently from behind Dean.

    Damnit, Dean had tried _so hard_ to direct the conversation away from that. Unfortunately, he was stuck with a jerk brother and dick angel for family. As though to prove his point, Sam grinned.

    “Actually, I was wondering if Dean had said anything about that to you.”

    Great, now it was like he wasn’t even there.

    “When you two are done _gossiping_ I’ll be upstairs.” He snapped, racing out of the room without meeting Cas’ eyes.

    The thing was, Dean wasn’t not-attracted to Cas’ body. He looked like Emma Watson for fuck’s sake. It was just that… _Cas_ was hot. Dean was always attracted to him, because it wasn’t his body Dean was attracted to, it was _him._ Hell, Dean would probably still be in love with the nerd in the trench coat if he could actually see Cas’ true form. Which reminded Dean that his attraction to Cas was far too similar to bestiality, so it was time for a new train of thought.

    With the knowledge that the cursed object was a Venus figure, Dean decided to do some searching through the Men of Letters database to see if they’d written up anything on the one they had in their basement. He flipped through every single ‘V’ record, trying not to become distracted by other artifacts that caught is attention. He came across “Venus Doll”, and took a picture with his phone of all the books listed as reference materials. There were only five books, one of which was the Black Grimoire. Perfect. As if that book wasn’t a source of trouble already.

    Dean had locked the book up in his room, so he went there and began perusing. He’d only been searching for a few minutes before there was a knock on his door and Cas entered. Dean had moved the angel’s jackets to the bed, and he looked up in time to see Cas’ eyes flit away from them. He was so protective over his clothes, it was adorable.

    “What are you doing?” Cas asked, closing the door behind him and standing next to Dean.

    “The records had this book listed, and since it’s the Big Bad Wolf of spell books, I figured I’d start with it.”

    “Can I help?” Cas asked tentatively.

    He was probably doubting that Dean was in the mood to talk, since he’d ditched Cas and Sam in the basement. Dean couldn’t have that.

    “’Course. I need a translator.”

    Cas sat on the desk beside the book, and read sideways while Dean continued to search for the spell. They got through over two-thirds of the book before Cas placed a hand on the page to stop Dean from moving on.

    “This is it.” He said, then began to read.

    Dean turned the book so it faced Cas, then checked out a little while the angel debated with what he was reading. Hopefully the spell recipe would give Cas clues into how to undo it. Dean didn’t want him this way much longer.

    “I’ll be able to find some anti-ingredients, but I don’t know what some of the rest are, so we’ll have to wait for Rowena to get those figured out. I can go now—.” Cas spoke as he thought.

    Dean grabbed the angel’s arm tight.

    “You are _not_ leaving this house without me.” He snapped.

    “This is not a house.” Cas pointedly removed Dean’s hand from his arm.

    “Whatever. I’ll tell Sam we’re heading out, it’ll be best if he waits here for Rowena.”

    In fact, it was _not_ best that Sam wait for Rowena. The idea didn’t sit well with Dean, because the witch might swindle another page—or the whole book—from his brother. But the thought of Cas in a female body out in the world alone crushed any anxiety Dean had about Rowena. Sure, Cas was an angel and could handle his own shit, but Dean wasn’t gonna let Cas get into any sketchy situations in the first place.

    “Fine.” Cas agreed amiably, then slid off the desk and headed to his room to pack a bag.

    He came back into Dean’s room a moment later, explaining how he thought he should borrow some of Dean’s clothes since the only other outfit he had didn’t fit him. Except the red hoodie, which he had placed over his white button-up. Dean didn’t like the memories associated with that particular hoodie.

    They piled shirts and more draw-string pants into Cas’ bag to hide the weapons he’d put in it, then Dean packed his own duffle while Cas went to find Sam.

    By the time Dean joined them, Cas had evidently explained their plan to Sam, who was already double checking that Cas had packed clothes he would inauspiciously fit in. Women wore men’s clothes all the time, but generally not ones larger than themselves—unless they were into that “boyfriend’s clothes thing”, which Dean _didn’t relate to in any way whatsoever_ —so it was important that Cas didn’t look too ridiculous.

    Unfortunately, Sam followed Dean’s train of thought.

    “Jokes aside, I think you guys should play it off that you’re dating if you have to use a cover. It’ll make more sense for Cas’ clothes.” Sam gave Dean a half-apologetic look, which Dean accepted with a shrug.

    “If it works.”

    Cas smiled that endearing failure of a smile. Sam zipped up the bag—every article of clothing pristinely folded—and handed it back to Cas, who headed for the stairs.

    “Don’t forget to buy him shoes. And a bra, if he wants one.” Sam told Dean as he passed.

    “Yes, mom.” Dean teased, throwing his brother a peace sign.

    Sam flipped him off with a grin, then Dean followed Cas to Baby.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Genderswap AUs have so much potential to address/change how gender is treated in Supernatural but most are just about heteronormativity and heterosexism (much like the show itself). Which is boring and gross. I wanted to write one where Cas' body isn't really that important to Dean and Sam--where they still value their friend no matter what, and don't degrade him (or anyone else, for that matter) for appearing female. Where his body isn't really that important, other than some minor inconveniences for Cas such as clothes and adjusting to being a different size.
> 
> Hopefully I achieved that here? Tell me what you think.
> 
> I'm planning on writing a second chapter, so if you enjoyed this one have no fear. There will be more.
> 
> As always, thanks for reading! Let me know if there's any spelling/grammar errors. 
> 
> <3


	2. Chapter 2

    Their first stop was to the nearest _Payless Shoes_. Dean let Cas pick out whatever he wanted, and was pleased that the angel decided on a pair of black converse. Dean had been wanting Cas to wear something, _anything_ , other than dress shoes for the last ten years. Cas didn’t show interest in a bra after Dean’s flustered attempt to bring it up, so they moved on to Lakewood, Colorado, where Cas said the nearest anti-ingredient for the spell was.

    Lakewood was outside of Denver, and it took a full six hours to get there from Lebanon. Considering they’d left home around one in the afternoon, it was around seven at night when they rolled into the motel Sam had booked for them. The store they needed to visit was closed, so Dean ordered Chinese delivery and they holed up in the motel room for the night.

    Dean turned on the TV for Cas, then snuggled into the one bed with a book while the angel took the lounge chair and scooted it over beside the bed. He sat and leaned his body toward Dean, who tried to ignore the resulting buzz in his skin.

    For a while Dean ate and read, but eventually Cas’ flicking through the channels was going to drive him up the wall. Thankfully the angel settled on re-runs of _Tom and Jerry_ before Dean could speak up.

    Dean didn’t notice when he fell asleep to the sound of the TV and Cas’ light laughter.

    He woke to find Cas reaching over from his chair and poking Dean’s face with the TV remote, sun shining in from the various windows. The angel chuckled when Dean batted the thing out of his face.

    “Dude.” Dean grumbled, sitting up and rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

    “The shop that sells the ingredient opens in an hour.” Cas offered as an olive branch.

    He still looked too pleased with himself for Dean’s satiation, so Dean was going to have to devise some kind of payback.

    “What time is it?” Dean asked, throwing the covers off and swinging his legs out of the bed.

    It took him a moment to realize that he had turned in Cas’ direction and was now inches from the angel’s face. Cas kept smiling that soft squinty smile, and his hair fell down to frame his face since he’d taken the hair tie off at some point during the night. Dean held his breath and tried not to freak about how endearing that was.

    “Eight.” The angel murmured.

    “Awesome. How long was I out?” Dean made an excuse to stand and hunt down his duffle bag.

    He pulled out clothes for a shower as Cas responded, “Nine hours.”

    Jeeze, he never slept that long. Dean shuffled into the shower and let his mind wander.

    When he came out, he found Cas still lounging and watching TV. His hair fluffed around his face and he was pouting angrily at the screen.

    “What is it?” Dean asked, checking the screen. A field full of flowers was displayed while some soft spoken woman was talking about statistics and nature.

    “They say the world’s populations of bees are declining.”

    Dean smiled. That was something that would get that look out of Cas. He packed his duffle while Cas bitched about the failures of capitalism that lead to the decline in bees, then spent five minutes convincing the angel that they could finish the documentary on Netflix once they got back to the bunker.

    Finally, they made it to the shop. It was a small gem store, tucked into a strip mall near a giant pink building that looked run-down as all hell, yet still had people flowing in and out of the doors.

    “Isn’t that _Casa Bonita_?” Dean asked, drawing Cas’ attention to the weird building.

    Cas barely glanced at it before squinting at Dean as though he’d grown a third eye.

    “What is with you and calling things houses that are obviously not houses?” 

    “Whatever.” Dean scoffed as he opened the door to the gem shop.

    Inside were cases, cabinets, and shelves covered in various rocks. Some were shiny, some colorful, and some looked like they were picked up off the street. When Dean reached out to pick up a purple gemstone, Cas snagged his hand and drew him away.

    “I don’t recommend touching anything.”

    “You gettin’ vibes?”

    “Yes.”

    Dean didn’t comment on how Cas continued to hold his hand as they approached the cash register.

    “Hello.” Cas greeted the sleepy old woman sitting behind the counter, who’s long silver hair was braided down her back.

    “Good morning. How can I help you kids?” She asked kindly, sipping from the mug in her fingerless-gloved hands.

    “We’re looking for a gem.” Cas explained.

    Dean checked out while the angel described the item, admiring all the trinkets in the store. It was a rare thing for him to be in one of these stores, and he was endlessly fascinated by each stone. Especially the blue ones that matched Cas’ eyes.

    Cas’ hand slipped from his as he talked, so Dean left him and the woman to the idle conversation. He went over to a table with trays of blue stones and began to search for one he liked. There was one that eventually caught his eye: a lapis lazuli worry stone. The stone had a large splotch of white within the blue, and a crack of fool’s gold. It was beautiful. Dean picked it up, ignored the price—which wasn’t that bad, really—and returned to Cas.

    “Found something you like?” The shopkeeper asked.

    “Yeah.” Dean handed over the stone with a glance at Cas.

    The angel eyed the stone warily for a second, then tilted his head a little to indicate that he approved. Dean grinned and ignored how Cas’ hair fell around his face, which it shouldn’t be doing in the first place.

    “It matches your eyes, darling. He chose well.” The old woman said as she bagged the gem and handed it to Cas, along with a second bag which Dean assumed was the anti-spell ingredient. She winked at Dean, who ducked his head and cursed the world, and more specifically witches. Damnit, she’d given away his secret.

    Cas thanked her as he accepted the bag of the ground up stone from the shopkeeper. Dean pulled out his wallet and handed over a fake credit card, willing his blush away.

    “How long have you been together?” The woman asked as she ran up the prices.

    It was clear she was just making more conversation to pass the time, but Dean swore his heart had a freakin’ seizure. Thankfully, Cas kept his wits about him.

    “Ten years, give or take.”

    “Oh, how wonderful. Any little ones?”

    Dean’s mind flashed to Ben, Kevin, Claire, and Jack. Yeah, there had been some “little ones”. Ones they’d failed to protect. But Dean wasn’t in the mood for memory lane. Besides, he wanted this conversation to be over, and if he mentioned anything about kids the woman would just ask more questions.

    “Um, no. Just us.”

    “Well, you two have a lovely day.” The woman said, handing back Dean’s card.

    They said their final thanks and hurried out. There were more ingredients to find before dark.

    Back in the Impala, Cas pulled the worry stone from the bag and held it up in the sun almost as soon as Dean had started the car. Dean glanced over, and saw the angel admiring the glint of the gold in the morning sun. Dean rolled his eyes to the ceiling and prayed Cas would keep his mouth shut about what the woman had said.

    “Did you pick this because of me?” Cas asked as he ran his thumb over the groove in the stone.

    Like he said, dick angel.

“Yeah.” Dean admitted as he guided his car onto the street.

    Cat was outta the damn bag, so he might as well.

    “It’s beautiful.” Cas put the gem back in the bag, then tucked both bags into the glove box.

    Dean cleared his throat and turned on the tape player. The Zeppelin mixtape he’d made Cas was in there, since the angel had put it on sometime last night before they had reached Denver.

    _The Rover_ began to play through the stereo.

    They drove on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic will be longer than expected.  
> The worry stone: https://www.crystalvaults.com/media/catalog/product/cache/1/image/9df78eab33525d08d6e5fb8d27136e95/9/2/920825b_1.jpg  
> The Rover: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qK_ZtN9K2EM


	3. Chapter 3

    Their next stop was Jackson Hole, Wyoming. This time they headed to a cemetery on the outskirts of the town, where Cas claimed he could extract the next ingredient, the bone of a dead man, without having to dig up the actual body.

    At first, Dean was skeptical. But when they arrived and chose a random grave that looked like it hadn’t been visited in a decade or three, and Dean watched a small finger bone appear in the angel’s palm, well. He couldn’t exactly be disbelieving anymore.

    Cas tucked the little bone away with the gemstone, keeping them separate with a napkin. Then they moved north, to Nevada, where they fetched the shed skin of a Mojave rattlesnake.

    Next: California. Dean drove on into the dark from where they snagged the snake skin, until they reached Reno where he decided to call it a night. They were at least four hours from their destination, it was past midnight, and Dean was hungry. Thankfully no business actually has closed hours in a casino town, so he was able to find a twenty-four hour diner with ease.

    The second he and Cas slipped into an empty booth near the back, an energetic young waiter approached their table with two glasses of water. He had curly black hair that was piled on his head in what Dean could only recognize as a modern fashion, since the man seemed college-aged.

    “Can I get your order?” The waiter asked, eyeing Dean and Cas and looking obviously disappointed.

    About what, Dean had no clue. Maybe someone had stiffed his tip earlier.

    “Waffles, eggs, and bacon.” Dean told the man, who scribbled something on the notepad he’d pulled from his apron.

    Cas merely repeated, “the same” plus a hot chocolate, and the waiter’s frown deepened as he walked away. Huh.

    “I suppose the couple disguise is working well.” Cas commented, taking a sip of his water and making a curious face.

    The angel mumbled something about minerals and chlorination as Dean gathered his thoughts. Cas was right, it was working. For other people. Not just with the lady at the rock shop, but in general people glanced at them less when they were walking down the street and Dean was a little too close to Cas than personal space called for. People stared less in restaurants, hell, they barely even gave Cas and himself the time of day. And Dean didn’t like it. At. All.

    It felt disingenuous, because in reality, Dean was used to people looking. At Cas, at him, at _them._ And he liked it. He liked glaring back, with the feeling of _he’s mine so suck it_ rising in his gut, his face challenging the onlookers who gave off the air of bigotry and snobbery to _just try it, I dare you_. With this situation, there was no reason form him to be on guard. As far as the world was concerned, he and Cas were nothing special. Which was all sorts of wrong.

    “Well, we gotta deal with it ‘til you’re fixed.” Dean grumbled, picking up a straw from the condiment container and taking off a piece of the wrapper.

    He placed the straw to his lips and blew the rest of the wrapper at Cas’ face, hitting him square on the nose. Revenge for waking up to a remote in his face.

    “Dean!” The angel squeaked, batting away the paper.

    Dean laughed as Cas balled it up and lobbed it at him. The wrapper got caught in the Winchester’s hair, and he scrambled to get it out as the waiter returned with Cas’ hot chocolate. He and Cas shared a smile while the man set down the mug, asked if they needed anything, and left when neither of them made more than a glance at him. Cas took a sip, then pushed the mug more toward the center. His smile fell away as he squinted at Dean, who could tell his gears were turning behind his furrowed brow.

    “If you’re not enjoying the disguise, we can change it.” The angel said slowly, as though expecting Dean to explode with relief.

    “No, it’s…fine.” Dean shook his head and fiddled with the straw in his water.

    He didn’t want Cas to think that appearing as a _couple_ or that Dean was uncomfortable with being intimate with him were the issue, when in fact they were the exact opposite of Dean’s problem.

    “We could ham it up more, really. Especially if we’re saying it’s been ten years since we met.” Dean glanced up at Cas, nervous for the reception of his idea, but as soon as he did he knew it had gone over well.

    Cas brightened and reached out a hand across the table, which Dean took. Cas’ hand still felt strange, the callouses and thick fingers Dean was used to were gone. It’d been a whole forty-eight hours, yet Dean still couldn’t wrap his head around Cas’ new body. They’d been through significantly weirder—and worse—shit, yet Dean was hung up on this, couldn’t roll with it like he should. To spite himself, he wove his fingers with Cas’.

    “For the record, it has been ten years.” Cas said, using his other hand to lift his mug to his lips.

    “Seriously?”

    “Give or take some months, but yes.”

    “Well, happy anniversary, babe.” Dean said with a wink.

    He could’ve sworn Cas blushed a little, but neither acknowledged it, the same way neither acknowledged that they hadn’t specified what _kind_ of relationship they’d had for ten years. They discussed the location of the next ingredient of the anti-spell for a few minutes, then the waiter swooped in with their food, so they reluctantly took their hands away and ate. Well, Dean ate then Cas let him mooch the rest of his half-eaten meal.

    They ate fast, because Dean really was getting tired, and once more the frumpy waiter came by with the check and to retrieve their dishes. Dean left the guy some cash with a generous tip to make up for whoever had stiffed him, and made sure to catch Cas’ hand again as they made their way out of the restaurant.

    “Thanks for coming in!” The waiter hollered, though he sounded anything but joyful.

    “What was his deal?” Dean asked as he and Cas parted to get into the Impala.

    “He thought you were attractive.” Cas said definitively as they got in.

    “How do you know that?” Dean couldn’t help but grin at the idea that some kid thought he was hot.

    “Just because I don’t read you or Sam’s mind doesn’t mean I don’t read others’.”

    “Do you read Mom’s?” Dean wondered aloud.

    Cas hesitated, fiddling with his hoodie string for a moment before responding, “At first I did.”

    “Neat.” Was all Dean could think to say as he drove to the newest motel Sammy had gotten them.

    Dean wasn’t sure what to think. On one hand, that was probably why Cas and Mary had gotten along so well so quickly, which was good. On the other, if Cas had still been reading her thoughts when she started working with the Brits, he could’ve saved them a lot of pain. Like him almost dying on a rotten couch in a broken barn.

    “Do you think he was jealous?” Cas asked, after they’d been on the road for a few minutes with just the music to occupy the thoughtful silence between them.

    The angel sounded legitimately curious.

    “He was acting crabby and thought I was hot. Yeah, Cas, he was jealous.” Dean glanced over and grinned at him.

    The angel raised his eyebrows and gave Dean a shy smile, but turned his head out the window, his long wavy hair hiding his face.

    There were hundreds of teasing comments running through Dean’s head, but he decided to let them go. Just like he always did. There was something about crossing that line that scared the hell out of him. And only Cas could create a feeling like that.

~

    The sound of Cas’ new voice discussing something rapidly and intensively roused Dean from his slumber.

    “You’re sure she said she doesn’t have it?”

    “Yes, but that’s the opposite side of the country.”

    “Alright, but hurry and be careful. I’m not sure trusting Rowena more than necessary is a good idea.”

    “I’ll let him know.”

    “Let me know what?” Dean spoke loudly into his pillow.

    Cas sighed audibly, and Dean listened as the angel made his way across the room and stand above him. Dean didn’t bother to open his eyes—he wasn’t ready for the world to be that real yet. The bed dipped behind his back, and Dean felt the warmth of Cas’ side press against him as the angel sat on the side of the bed.

    “Rowena arrived at the bunker. One of the ingredients is on the East Coast so she and Sam are going to go get it while we fetch the last one.”

    Dean heaved a sigh to match Cas’.

    “Awesome.”

    “I don’t like it, either. The faster we get the last ingredient, the better.”

    Dean had to agree, but his bed was so warm, and Cas was radiating so much body heat, he physically ached to stay where he was. But, his life wasn’t that forgiving, so he turned and prodded at Cas’ ribs to get him off the bed so Dean could get up. They were ready within an hour, then took off for California.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, comments and kudos are appreciated and if there's any grammar/spelling weirdness, let me know!


	4. Chapter 4

    The final ingredient was located in some small, old city at the base of one of the most beautiful mountains Dean had ever seen. The place was buried in the thick sequoia forest, and the fresh air smelled like sap. Dean wanted to move there, one day. Mt. Shasta was, inarguably, one of the best places on Earth.

    Cas loved the place, too. There had been a night, years ago, when they’d finished up a hunt out here and spent the rest of that summer night stargazing in a parking lot on the slope. Cas had described every star he knew, and Dean had listened to every word like his favourite song.

    The thing they were now searching for was the most specific anti-ingredient of them all. Rather than being a generic snake skin or pretty rock, they needed something associated with femininity that belonged to Cas himself. At first, Dean had thought they were screwed, and not in the fun way.

   But then, Cas said he knew of such a thing. A necklace he’d had a long, long time ago, given to him by a friend. When Dean had tried to get Cas to tell him more, all the angel would say was that his human friend had passed centuries ago and he didn’t with to think about it any longer than he had to. Which was a cryptic but fair answer. Hell, it was less cryptic than the average explanation Dean got from Cas.

    The necklace was supposed to be buried on the mountain at the friend’s grave. They would have to hike for half a day to get there, but as per usual, their timing was crap. It was barely evening by the time they drove into town, so they were forced to spend yet another night in a motel.

    Mt. Shasta wasn’t big in the way of bars, but they had some great restaurants, so Dean and Cas slunk into a cute Mexican-food diner to eat. No one was there except them and an older couple who were happily discussing their grandchildren. Dean watched Cas watch the couple while they waited for their food. The angel was leaning on his hand with his face hidden from them by his hair, yet his eyes traced with table with every rise and fall of voice, with every inflection, with every sentence. He was enraptured with the couple’s conversation, a small, knowing smile lighting his face.

    When he looked up at Dean, blue eyes sparkling in the setting sunlight, Dean felt his stomach flip. He was a lucky man to have Castiel in his life, no matter what the angel looked like. Dean laid his hand palm up on the table. Cas’ eyes landed on it, then the angel shifted his position so he could place his hand in Dean’s. Neither of them spoke, but they shared a shy smile. Dean got the sense that something was happening between them, as he sometimes did, like they were holding their breath as they stepped over another fallen tree in their path. Path toward what, Dean wasn’t quite sure. Sometimes he thought he knew where he and Cas were going, and other times he was convinced they were lost in the woods.

    “Food for the lovely couple.” Their waitress’s voice rang out, breaking the peace.

    Dean and Cas startled and broke apart, letting the waitress set their food down. The smell of rice and beans had Dean’s mouth watering, so he dug in while Cas thanked the woman. The two of them continued to enjoy their meal in relative silence, Cas still listening to the older couple and Dean thinking about how he—thankfully—had limited time to figure out how Cas looked with various braids in his hair.


	5. Chapter 5

    “I believe the necklace is where I left it.”

    “Hope so. You gonna tell me about this friend of yours?” Dean asked, returning from their room’s bathroom and propping his feet back up on the chair across from the one he’d claimed at the tiny table.

    Cas looked up at Dean from his laptop and frowned.

    “I…don’t know how you will react.”

    “Sounds scandalous.” Dean teased, grinning so Cas understood.

    The angel sighed, but closed the laptop, which was a good sign.

    “In Heaven’s eyes, it was.”

    “Screw Heaven.”

    Cas actually smirked. Another good sign.

    “A long time ago, in a galaxy far away, I knew a man.”

    “Actually, screw _you_.” Dean joked, pointing an accusatory finger at the angel.

    Cas chuckled. He looked down at his lap, folded his hands, and began to explain in a serious tone that captured Dean’s attention.

    “He was my friend for many years. I was on a rare mission for those times, one which involved humans and Earth. I barely remember its importance. But I met _him_. And it didn’t take long for me to…to _love_ him. He was a good person, given the times and circumstances of his life. And he understood me, my dedication to a family I knew was broken. He understood who I was and what I wanted.

    “Heaven didn’t. They killed him when they found out what we—I—had done. The punished me by sending me to an angel who hated humanity: Zachariah. Then, as you know, Zachariah had me work with Ishim, as punishment or repentance, I don’t know.”

    “And here I thought you were a virgin before that reaper.” Dean teased while he thought about how to respond.

    “I let you think many things about me, Dean.” Cas teased with him.

    Jokes aside, that was one of the most loaded statements Cas had ever made. Dean wasn’t sure how even begin to unpack that, much less talk about it on top of the heartbreaking story he had just shared.

   Cas seemed to feel the same, because he began to reopen his laptop as a conversation ender. But Dean wasn’t gonna let him hide yet. It was weird to be talking to Cas of all people about _love,_ since it was a topic Dean actively dodged when it came up between the two of them. Hey, he had his reasons.

    But Dean had started this conversation, and for once he felt like finishing it. He felt like getting out of the woods.

    “So, this guy you loved got killed and you just, what? Moved on?”

    “Not for a long time, no. I took out my hurt on anything that got in the way of my missions for centuries.” Cas said matter-of-factly, like someone who had buried their pain with the dead.

    The angel closed the laptop and scooted it away from himself an inch.

    “When did you stop?” Dean prompted, because clearly Cas wasn’t like _that_ anymore.

    Not since the first year or so since Dean had met him…

    “When…I met you.” Cas confirmed, looking up from the table to meet Dean’s eyes. The angel’s face bounced between the vulnerability of all that he had just shared and the desire to appear like the solid, badass angel he pretended to be. They shared a look of understanding, of how much they’d changed one another’s lives.

    That feeling of their forest washed over Dean again. Which, randomly enough, reminded him that he needed to try braiding Cas’ hair. He stood, located his duffle bag at the foot of his bed, and rifled through it for another hair tie.

    “I’m sorry you lost him.” He told Cas to keep the conversation going.

    He stood in time to see Cas nod solemnly.

    “I am, too. But I don’t know if I would have met you, if things had gone differently. And I wouldn’t trade you for anything.”

    Apparently Cas had been bitten by the honesty bug tonight, given what he’d told Dean so far. Dean wanted to be right there with him, to quit dancing around in fear of _what ifs_ and just embrace the truth that he needed Cas in his life as much as Cas needed him.

    But Dean Winchester was not particularly a man of words. He was a man of actions.

    He made his way behind Cas’ chair and began scooping the angel’s hair into his hands, being mindful of the strands caught in the folds of his hoodie.

    “Hold still, face forward.” Dean told him, and Cas complied.

    Dean had only ever done two kinds braids in his life. One was a simple, standard braid for Charlie, and the other was a French braid which he’d had to practice at least one-hundred times to get it even remotely right for Lisa. Dean chose to practice his French braid with Cas’ hair, though the waves presented a challenge. As he set to work, he felt Cas relax.

    “Thank you.” The angel murmured.

    “I bet it’s been annoying having hair in your face when you’re not used to it.”

    “It’s been a long time since I’ve had a female vessel.” Cas agreed.

    “It’s a good thing this happened to you and not me or Sam, though. Either one of us would’ve freaked.” Dean said, as though he still wasn’t slightly freaking out about Cas’ different body.

    Cas chuckled.

    “Probably. Though you would both be beautiful women.” Cas said, his voice light and teasing.

    “I know I’m hot, Cas, you don’t have to flatter me.” Dean laughed.

    “If by ‘hot’ you mean that your soul burns as bright as a sun, then I’ll agree.”

    “This from the dude who made a Star Wars joke not five minutes ago.” Dean grumbled, tugging the hair tie around the end of Cas’ finished braid.

    Dean stepped away to fetch his pajamas, while Cas ran an appreciative hand over his woven hair. Dean played with the fabric in his hands for a moment before stealing his nerves and turning to catch Cas’ eye.

    “You know I feel the same way, right?” Dean began.

    He wanted to tell Cas. This time he could do it. Cas had, after all, just a minute ago. He could, too.

    “I…no.” Cas squinted in confusion.

    “I, uh,” Dean cleared his throat.

    He was going to chicken out. God _damnit._

    “You make a beautiful woman.” He ended up saying instead.

    Cas glowed.

    “I was beginning to wonder.” The angel murmured, quietly enough where Dean wasn’t sure whether or not he was supposed to hear it.

    Dean changed into his pajamas while Cas opened the laptop and resumed whatever he was doing. Probably researching bees or something. Dean went into the bathroom to freshen up, closing the door behind him so he could have a moment to rein in his sporadic mind.

    Cas had told him three things that were pointing them in the right direction. First, he’d loved a _man._ What vessel the angel had had at the time hadn’t even been relevant enough for Cas to mention it, which meant that Cas really _didn’t_ care about his Earthly manifestation all that much _,_ though Dean had somewhat already been aware of that.

    Second, Cas hid shit from him. He _let_ Dean have misconceptions about him. On purpose. Intentionally.

    There was a lot to consider there. Some of it scared Dean, some of it interested him. It scared him because it served as a reminder that he never knew Cas as he thought he did. The dude was an _angel_ for fuck’s sake, and as human as he sometimes seemed, he wasn’t actually one. There was much of what made Cas who he was that Dean might never know nor understand. But it interested him for the same reasons. There was _a lot_ he still had to learn about Cas, which meant that the angel could never get boring. Hell, the dude probably had tons of stories about dinosaurs, yet Dean had never bothered to ask for one.

    Third. Cas wouldn’t trade him for anything. He’d just…gone and… _said it._ The thing Dean knew but rarely ever talked about. How Cas had given up Heaven for _him_ , an army of friends for _him_ , his own life…for Dean. Of course, the angel had other reasons behind his actions, just like everybody. But the fact that Dean influenced any amount of Cas’ decision making—or all of it in some cases—was almost too much for him. Hence, his policy of keeping his trap shut.

    What it all meant, of course, was their proximity to the very destination of the path they were trying so hard and failing so miserably to find was increasing.

    But now that he could see the light at the end of the tunnel, Dean was shying away from it. He didn’t want Cas to think he’d suddenly come to the realization of being in love with him just because the angel magically had boobs—as though Dean hadn’t been aware of his love for Cas since the _first_ apocalypse. In sum, it felt false to tell him right now. Cas might not believe him.

    Maybe Dean could play up the couple stuff more. Sure, they wouldn’t have any real reason to do it on their way back to the bunker, but if Dean could habituate Cas to that kind of behaviour over the next few days, then dropping the bomb of _hey I’m in love with your feathered ass_ might not feel so sudden to the angel.

    Yeah, that was a good plan. He resolved to stick to it.

    Which meant that he was going to have to start implementing his plan immediately, just in case he wimped out by morning.

    Leaving the bathroom, Dean wasn’t surprised to find Cas right where he’d left him. Dropping his shirt and jeans on top of his duffle, Dean returned to his position behind the angel and leaned over him a bit to see what he was watching.

    Yup, bees.

    After a few minutes of watching bees buzz around flowers, and listening to David Attenborough’s voice, Dean cleared his throat and watched through the reflection on the screen as Cas looked up toward him in annoyance. The angel paused the film and twisted around in his chair so he could actually see Dean. The braid hadn’t been all that tight, and Cas’ hair cocooned his face. The angel, despite his clear annoyance at being interrupted, looked…well, angelic.

    Dean loved it when he caught Cas in those moments.

    “Gonna go to bed.” Dean mumbled, not sure what to do with his body.

    He didn’t want to do anything too out of the ordinary just yet, so he patted Cas’ shoulder, gave it a squeeze, and said,

    “G’night, Cas.”

    “Goodnight, Dean.” The angel said, his face softening before he turned back to his film.

    Dean curled up in his bed and fell asleep to the sounds of bees.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I looked up "bee soundscape" and actually found one...enjoy?  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cYgU9mvSiZg


	6. Chapter 6

    The necklace was exactly where Cas had left it: buried with the skeleton of a man named James Parker.

    “Huh, like the football player.” Dean muttered as he read the old, smudgy gravestone.

    “The what?” Cas asked, sitting up from where he’d been spread eagle over the dirt to summon the necklace from the casket.

    “Nothing.” Dean cleared his throat and offered Cas a hand.

    The angel took it, leaning his weight on Dean for an extra second as he balanced his body. When he stood back, Dean saw a necklace now perched around Cas’ neck. A turquoise stone was set in silver, hanging from a silver chain. The metal was dull and rusty, but the stone looked pristine.

    “Woa, dude gave you that?” Dean asked, awed at how fancy the necklace was.

    Blue fit Cas so well. Maybe it was the tie he usually wore that influenced Dean’s opinion.

    “Yes.” Cas tried to angle the necklace so he could see it, and as soon as he touched it, the rust fell away, and the silver became like new.

    “Guy had good taste.” Dean said, then turned and headed back down the trail with Cas in tow.

~

    Dean was wiped by the time they made it back to Baby. After a full day of hiking, he was ready to call it a day, driving home be damned. They drove down the mountain, Cas fingering the necklace while absently watching the forest go by. Every now and then he’d mumble the name of some bird he saw. Dean gave in to the urge to hold the angel’s hand halfway into town, snagging the angel’s closest hand with his. Cas acknowledged the gesture with a soft smile, but didn’t bother to turn his head from the window.

    Maybe Dean’s plan was going to be easier than he thought.

    Upon Dean’s insistence when they arrive, Cas took the motel room key and went inside while Dean remained in the car to call Sam.

    “Hey, Dean. We’ve got two of three ingredients, then we’ll head back tomorrow. How are things on your end?”

    “Good, Cas got the necklace, so we’re headed back tomorrow, too. Probably won’t be back ‘til the next day, though.”

    “Same here. Listen Dean,” Sam’s voice got quieter so whoever was nearby wouldn’t be overheard, “I’m keeping tabs on the ingredients, but make sure you do the same. I don’t want Rowena to somehow finagle another page from us by holding out on fixing Cas.”

    “Oh, _now_ you’re worried.” Dean snarked, though the idea that Rowena would do such a thing hadn’t actually crossed his mind.

    He’d been preoccupied.

    “Yeah, yeah. How’s Cas holding up?”

    “Fine, doesn’t seem fazed in the slightest.”

    “That’s good. What about you?”

    “What _about_ me?”

    “Come on, dude, I know you’re bothered by the whole thing. Cas too hot to handle, or something?” Sam teased.

    Something about the way Sam spoke implied that he knew Dean thought Cas was hot, vessel be damned. Dean wondered, not for the first time, if Sam knew the extent of Dean’s attraction to Cas.

    “I’m not that shallow. I just like Cas the way he is. Dorky hair, flasher trench coat. He’s got that _look_ , you know?” Dean defended.

    “I don’t think that disproves my point. Anyway, see you in a few days.” Sam said, chuckling as he hung up.

    “See ya.” Dean let his phone fall to his lap.

    There was no way in hell Dean was gonna let Rowena play games with Cas. Not again. Also, Sam could shove his smugness up his ass. Dean double checked the ingredients were in the glove box before tucking them in the back and locking them up again.

    After going to the motel office and putting his name down for another night, Dean joined Cas in the room, where they debated where to eat. It was all for show, or Dean’s comfort, or something along those lines. Cas didn’t eat, even if he pretended to care where they went. Still, the effort was appreciated.

    They decided on the Black Bear diner, which turned out to be the best choice. Cas mildly lost his marbles when they walked in to find the entire place bear-themed. There were various wooden sign-holding bears, lots of stuffed bears, and their menus—in the form of newspapers—had lots of cartoon bears on them.

    Without prompt, Cas walked into the gift shop, selected a stuffed bear, and proceeded to take it to their table. Dean handed over some cash for the thing to the hostess who’d followed them, then she took their drink orders and left with a wink at Cas. She probably thought Dean was being a supportive boyfriend, or husband, or something. At least, he hoped that’s what she thought.

    When they sat down, Dean reached out and took Cas’ non-bear-holding hand in his. The angel’s attention snapped from the bear to Dean, who received another soft smile of approval.

    This dinner proceeded much like the last, with Cas’ attention divided between Dean and the same old couple from the night before. This time they were joined by a young woman, probably in her college years. At one point, she was talking excitedly about some kind of salamander research. Cas was rendered a smiling mess as the woman described going into the woods at night just to catch small critters. Dean, however, wanted to chastise her. Didn’t she know there were monsters out there? But of course, how could she, when his job was to keep monsters hidden from the public eye.

    “You’re fascinated by people, aren’t you?” Dean asked Cas as they ate.

    Cas had laughed to himself at a joke the old man had made.

    “Humans never cease to amaze me.” Cas agreed.

    “Is that why you fell in love?” Dean asked, referring to the man Cas had talked about last night.

    Cas froze mid-bite and stared across the table at Dean, one arm encircled around the stuffed bear, the other holding a fork of mashed potatoes in the air.

    “What do you mean?” Cas’ voice sounded fragile, scared.

    As though Dean had just brought up one of his greatest secrets, which didn’t make any sense considering they’d just talked about this less than twenty-four hours ago. Did Cas think he was talking about someone else? That would be one hell of a roadblock.

    “The man who gave you the necklace. I’m guessing part of why you loved him was because he was a fascination.” Dean clarified.

    Cas squinted at him for a moment, before setting his fork down and hugging the small bear with both arms.

    “That is not the only reason.”

    The _is_ rang in Dean’s ears.

    “What else?”

    “Anything else for you two?” Their waiter’s voice interrupted.

    Neither Dean nor Cas had seen him approach, and they both started.

    “Um, yes. Do you have pie?” Cas asked, without hesitation.

    He hadn’t looked away from Dean, who felt Cas’ eyes drilling holes into the side of his head while he acknowledged the waiter’s existence, like a normal person would.

    “Yep, I can bring you our dessert menu. Are we celebrating anything tonight?” The waiter asked, giving Dean a knowing smile.

    “Our anniversary. Ten years.” Dean managed to contribute.

    When he felt Cas’ hand find his, Dean couldn’t be bothered with the stranger anymore. Thankfully, the waiter took no offence from this, and darted off to fetch the dessert menu. Cas passively went along with Dean’s choice of apple pie, and once that was settled, the waiter brought back boxes for them to pack their leftovers—well, Cas’ leftovers—into. They weren’t able to get back to their actual conversation until there was a steaming piece of pie and a scoop of vanilla ice cream set down between the two of them.

    “I fell in love because he was brave.” Cas said as Dean shoveled pie into his mouth, “And he wasn’t afraid of me. He made sure I understood he didn’t think I was better than him just because I was an angel. And he never abandoned me, not truly, though more than I’d like we ha—ad to go our own ways.”

    Yeah, Dean caught that slip up. Cas wasn’t talking about his lover from the past. But it wasn’t just the slip up that brought Dean to this conclusion. Cas had described his past love as a good man, who understood him. The person he’d just described? Call him narcissistic, but Dean was pretty sure Cas was talking about _him_.

    Or maybe, that’s what Dean wanted to think, and Cas was talking about the guy from the past after all. Or someone else entirely.

    The forest became murky once again. 

    “Those sound like good reasons.” Dean said once he’d swallowed his food.

    “I think so.” Cas agreed solemnly.

    The angel gave Dean’s hand a squeeze before retreating to maintain a hold on the bear. Dean left his hand where it was, but Cas let him finish the pie uninterrupted. After, Dean paid the bill, then he and Cas headed back to the motel. Dean could tell that Cas was struggling through some kind of emotion, perhaps their conversation had brought up bad memories. Whatever was bothering him, Dean decided to give the angel his space on the drive back.

    When they got back and settled in for the night, Cas decided to watch a documentary about whales, for which Dean insisted they sprawl out on the bed and watch together. Dean liked whales, they had a calming quality to them. Cas didn’t protest, and so they arranged themselves on the poor excuse for a two-person bed. It helped that Cas was smaller than usual, but nonetheless they ended up with their sides pressed against one another. Not that Dean was complaining. Cas was warm, especially since he’d had to remove his usual layers of trench coat and suit for a thin hoodie and sweatpants.

    The documentary was interesting, but the whale song and Cas’ comforting presence had Dean nodding off halfway through the show.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This has gotten to be so much longer than I imagined. I hope you're all enjoying reading it as much as I'm enjoying writing it!
> 
> Also, here's Cas' necklace: https://image.dhgate.com/0x0/f2/albu/g5/M00/BE/65/rBVaI1mHN2yAeN8XAAe8hurOHNc256.jpg
> 
> ~
> 
> Update: I realized I messed up the timing of their trip. It's gonna take them 2 days to get back to Kansas, not one. Unless Cas drives, but I haven't decided on that yet...


	7. Chapter 7

    The next day did not go so easily. Dean wasn’t sure whether to blame himself or the damn Venus figure that had cursed his best friend for how poorly things went.

    It began with Dean’s nerves getting the best of him. He’d woken up to find himself curled against Cas, who was still sitting on the bed, tapping away at his computer on some kids’ gaming site. The angel had been perceptive enough to bring his laptop charger over to the bed before starting the whale movie, so Dean assumed they essentially spent the night together. Dean had been fine with this for the first few minutes of regaining consciousness, to the point where he snuggled closer to Cas and breathed in the presence of his angel. Cas had been petting Dean’s hair before the man had woken, and took Dean’s closeness as encouragement to continue. But then he’d remembered that he planned to tell Cas that he loved him by the end of the day and his mind just…fritzed. His heart jumped to his throat, adrenaline spiked his blood. He rushed from the bed to the shower with hardly a word to Cas, who silently bore holes through the closed door.

    It progressed with Dean trying his hardest to be calm and collected. In the car, he tried to play tapes that didn’t remind him of Cas, like Ozzy Osborne. His plans were foiled by the angel himself, who declared halfway through that the hard rock was giving him a headache, and forced Dean to switch to the Beatles, _Abbey Road_. At least half of the songs reminded him of Cas.

    Dean was close to having an aneurism by the time he decided to kill his nerves and stop for lunch. Any kind of stop would put them behind, but if he had to spend a few more hours of the night driving in recompense, so be it. In the restaurant Dean had managed to get up the courage of the previous day to hold Cas’ hand around the waiter, but he couldn’t keep up the contact for fear that Cas would feel his hand shaking or getting sweaty. The angel didn’t comment on Dean’s behaviour, but every now and then he’d give Dean that confused, analyzing squint.

    Cas was quiet all day, watching the world go by out his window until it grew dark, then he laid against the door and meditated, his stuffed bear settled on his lap. Dean made sure to play quiet music so Cas could rest.

    It culminated with the second stop of the journey: a bar. Dean figured after seventeen more-or-less straight hours of driving he deserved some kind of wake-up slash nerve-killer. He pulled off the interstate when they arrived in Laramie, Wyoming. The nearest bar was some kind of dive, with loud music and people milling inside and out. Dean had to park toward the back of the parking lot.

    “Cas, bud, I’m gonna stop for a drink.” Dean said, leaning over and placing a hand on the angel’s shoulder, gently jostling him.

    Cas started, and Dean wondered how far in his own thoughts the angel had buried himself.

    “Alcohol?” The angel grunted with a familiar scratchiness in his voice.

    He blinked up blearily at Dean through the curtains of his untied hair. Dean’s heart skipped a beat. From the cuteness? From finally having to look Cas in the eye? Who knew.

    “Yeah. I gotta stretch my legs for a while.”

    Cas didn’t protest, so after a few minutes of walking around and getting blood running in their legs again, the pair found themselves stools at the quieter end of the bar. Dean had no idea what day of the week it was, but there seemed to be an above average amount of people there. The stools around him and Cas would fill and empty in a matter of minutes, and the music he’d heard in the parking lot was playing behind one of the walls. It took Dean longer than necessary to figure out that the place doubled as a club, but he could excuse his lack of attention to detail: he was once again preoccupied.

    Cas continued to be quiet, eyes focused on his already empty glass rather than watching humanity play around him as he usually did. His brow was creased, lips in a still-wrong pout. Something was bothering him, _a lot_. Dean had a number of guesses: Cas was reminiscing about his old lover, or he was pissed at Dean for being a bundle of nerves, or the noise of the bar had brought back his headache, or Cas was tired of his female body and wanted to get home...The theories ran in circles in his mind.

    “You drank that a little fast there, hun. You sure you want another?” The bartender asked, giving Cas a concerned look.

    Dean hadn’t noticed the bartender come over, but now that she spoke, he realized Cas had requested another drink. He was so used to Cas drinking alcohol like water that it always amused him when other people encountered his angel’s unusual behaviour.

    “He’s driving.” Cas said roughly, jabbing a finger in Dean’s direction.

    The bartender gave Dean a look that he interpreted as, _Don’t let your girlfriend get hurt._

    “She’s on my watch.” Dean confirmed, trying his damnedest not to trip over the pronoun “she”.

    He ordered a glass of water for himself since Cas had outed him as the responsible one. He doubted the bartender would give him any more drinks now that she knew he was the designated driver.

    “Are you ok?” Dean asked, leaning toward Cas and lowering his voice so prying ears wouldn’t hear.

    “Yes.” Cas snapped, then seeming to regret his tone, the angel took a deep breath and looked up to meet Dean’s eyes.

    “No, actually. But, the alcohol is appreciated.”

    “Can I help?”

     Cas just shrugged. They drank in silence for the next few minutes, Cas tuning out the world and Dean tuning out everything but Cas. Thus, neither noticed the absolutely trashed man who’d picked out Cas as his target until the sleaze plopped down in the empty stool next to Cas and placed himself almost directly in Cas’ face.

    “’Ellurr, purr’y thin’. Wha’ss ya ‘ame?”

    It was stunning the man made it through his question. Dean hadn’t wasted a second, sliding from his chair, whirling around Cas, and hauling the intruder up by the lapels of his faux-leather jacket. The man’s eyes were clouded from inebriation, and Dean’s stomach curled at just how bad the guy smelled: like he hadn’t showered in a week.

    “Back _off_.” Dean growled, releasing the creep before that stench contaminated his skin.

    The man stumbled back, then forward, barely managing to stay on his feet.

    “’Ho ‘re ya? ‘Er ‘usban’?” The man snarled, then turned his head toward Cas—or where he thought Cas was—and added, “Ah cou’ treat ya be’urr.”

    Dean was disgusted by how drunk this guy was. Not only was it embarrassing, but he wanted to punch the jackass’s lights out for treating a woman the way he did. Even if Cas wasn’t actually human, there was no excuse for such gross behaviour. Dean readied his first for a fight. Shouts and hollers around him indicated he wasn’t the only one who assumed this was going to get violent.

    His hand was gripped hard, almost to the point of pain, by someone else. Dean looked down to find Cas glaring up at him, flames dancing in his eyes. The angel turned his anger briefly on his assailant, who leered down at him.

    “For the record, no one can treat me better.” The angel said viciously.

    Then he shoved his hand into Dean’s and dragged him away from the shitfaced idiot. The crowd booed, some of them insulting Cas for depriving them of entertainment. None of them finished more than a few words, though, because Cas looked ready to break more than just Dean’s hand.

    Dean didn’t say anything, just let Cas lead him from the bar. They made a pit stop at the hostess’ pedestal to pay for their drinks, then returned to the car. Dean leaned against the driver’s door, breathing in the cool night air and letting the Wyoming stars settle his rage. It was a good thing that sleaze ball hadn’t actually touched Cas. Dean probably would’ve ripped his fingers off, one by one.

    The angel in question was leaning against the backdoor of the Impala, next to Dean. His hands were shoved in the pockets of his hoodie, and he was still glaring at Dean.

    “I can handle myself.” The angel began after a few minutes.

    Dean knew by his tone that Cas was testing him, trying to get him to argue. The tension and sulking of the day had finally caught up with the angel, and he was going to call Dean out on his bullshit. Which was all well and good, Dean knew, except he still hadn’t come up with how he wanted to phrase the truth. He definitely didn’t want to fuck up and say it wrong during an argument.

    “I know, I know.” Dean ran a hand through his hair, then shrugged, looking down at Cas.

    Ugh, when was he finally gonna be eye level with the angel again? This was getting to be too much.

    “What do you want me to say? I wasn’t gonna let that shithead touch you, end of story.” He explained.

    “At least that _shithead_ was attracted to me.” Cas bit out.

    “Um, duh, why do you think he was trying to get in your pants?” Dean snapped, not understanding why Cas had pointed out the obvious.

    Any guy in their right mind would think Cas was hot. Dean sure as hell thought so, but again, for more than outward appearances.

    “What is it going to take?” Cas snarled, his voice becoming quiet with fury.

    Dean was unsure where this anger was coming from and why it was being directed at him. He did his best to make sure his voice conveyed his confusion and not his frustration with whatever Cas was on about.

    “What is…what?”

    “I’m beginning to think changing my body was useless,” the angel hissed, “Because apparently any man on this planet would want me—except you.”

    _Wait, what_. What the hell did Cas just say? Was he implying he changed his body on purpose? That he _knew this whole fuckin’ time_ what the inscription on the figure’s box had said, and had gone and picked it up anyway? And for what? To get hit on by random men in bars? Cas wasn’t like that.

    Cas was moving around the Impala by the time his words caught up with Dean’s brain.

    _Oh. Fuck._ The angel had changed his body _for Dean_. Because he wanted _Dean_ to find him attractive. Because he thought that _Dean_ wasn’t into him in his male body.

    Baby’s passenger door slammed shut, and Dean took a minute to get his thoughts in order. He had to tell Cas now. There wasn’t an option to let this go, because if he did Cas would get hurt more. That simply wasn’t allowed.

    _Cas, I am attracted to you, I always have been and I always will be._

_Cas, you’re an idiot, changing your body didn’t change anything ‘cause I already love you._

_Cas, you’re hot as a dude and I wouldn’t change that for the world. It just fits **you**_ **.**

It was stupid for him to be so nervous. This would go just fine. Cas had already told him two nights ago that he valued Dean above everything else, and if it was easy for the angel to tell him that, Dean could say three simple words without having a damn heart attack. Right?

Dean slid into the driver’s seat and turned on the engine to get it warmed up. Zeppelin’s _The Rover_ began on the stereo. How much more Hallmark was this moment going to get?

    “Cas,” Dean began, forcing himself to meet the angel’s eyes.

    He was right about doing this now. Cas looked ready to cry. Dean’s eyes cast to where he was fiddling with the steering wheel.

    “I don’t know why you thought you needed to change your body, ‘cause I like you the way you are—.”

    “Because I fit the role of another _brother._ I understand.” The angel interrupted coolly, glaring down at his cuddled bear instead of Dean.

    “No. Enough of the bullshit, okay? I say that ‘cause I’m deflecting.” Dean sighed.

    Then, not allowing himself to chicken out again, he scooted across the bench, taking one of Cas’ hands off the bear and into his own. He tried his best to balance himself with his other arm against the backseat so he didn’t end up falling into Cas’ lap and making this whole situation ten times more awkward.

    Cas visibly flinched when Dean touched him, but didn’t pull away. It felt like fire was licking at Dean’s skin where it was touching the angel, as though the electricity between the two of them was lighting up the cells.

    “Cas, come on. Your vessel isn’t as important to me as _you._ Hell, if you came back as a dog next time, all I’d care about is that you were with me. I love _you_ , Castiel.”

    Finally, Cas looked at him with the gentleness Dean had missed all day.

    “You…do?”

    “I swear on Baby.”

    Cas’ lips twitched in an attempted smile.

    “I love you, too.”

    Then his face fell again.

    “Why did it take this long to tell me, if my vessel doesn’t matter?” He asked, each word slow, as though Cas were afraid of the answer.

    Dean considered. There were a lot of reasons, ranging from John’s blatantly homophobic parenting to Dean’s own fear of losing the angel forever. He could explain them all to Cas, if he wanted to. He could admit that he was a coward, who didn’t think he deserved Cas’ friendship to begin with, much less the angel’s _love._ He could tell Cas that despite all the evidence to the contrary, he knew the angel would leave him at some point, whether he came to see that he shouldn’t love such a flawed soul or he found a mission more important than Dean, it didn’t matter. He could say that though he knew Cas had told him he loved him in more ways than one, Dean was afraid to believe it because he wasn’t sure he could handle the responsibility of causing an angel to fall.

    Or, he could sum them all up with one, simple word: fear.

    “’Cause I’m scared out of my mind.” He admitted, letting his nerves out with that statement.

    He could be honest with Cas. He didn’t need to be afraid of that, at least.

    Cas tilted his head at Dean.

    “Of me?”

    “Of, like, everything except you. Well, when you’re not about to murder my dumb ass.”

    There he went, deflecting again. But, Dean figured they could save the details for a later day.

    Cas actually did smile. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

    “As you should.” Dean said, giving Cas’ hand a squeeze.

    They laughed together, then Cas reached out and placed a hand against Dean’s cheek. He threaded his fingers through Dean’s hair, smiling to himself as Dean tried _very hard_ to pretend that he wasn’t affected by the sensation.

    “Is this why you were weird today?” The angel asked.

    “This conversation?”

    “Yes.”

    “Yeah. The other night I decided I’d tell you once we got home, and I…I freaked out. You’re so important to me, Cas. I didn’t want to fuck it up.”

    “You’re important to me, too. And, I don’t think you fucked up.”

    “That’s a relief.” Dean grinned.

    Cas stopped petting his hair as the music came to a close. In the quiet of the clicking tape, the angel pulled Dean forward by the back of his head, his eyes dancing between the man’s lips and eyes. Then, Cas kissed him. Quick and soft, but it was enough for Dean’s heart to soar. He was above the trees, the forest thinning to a mountain top, where he stood with Castiel.

    They’d made it out of the woods.

    “Let’s get a room.” The angel said, as he leaned back against the door.

    “We’ve only got eight—.” Dean began to protest, but Cas silenced him with another peck on the lips.

    “Dean, you’ve already been driving all day. Besides, I want to finish this conversation somewhere that isn’t your car.”

    “Hey, what’s wrong with her?” Dean teased, though he hadn’t missed the innuendo in Cas’ words.

    Cas gave him a tired look. After some quick google searches—and prying himself away from the angel—Dean found a motel that was still open in Cheyenne and booked a room. Cas seemed content to wait the forty extra minutes, but as soon as the key was handed over he left Dean to scramble after him, giving the clerk a hasty thanks. As soon as the door was closed behind them, Dean found himself with an armful of angel.

    Cas’ small frame entirely fit in Dean’s embrace. The angel tucked his head under Dean’s chin and wrapped his arms around the man’s waist, while Dean tried not to drop his duffle bag directly on top of Cas.

    “Dude, warning?” Dean huffed out as he managed to set his bag on the floor without disturbing the angel too much.

    Cas just grunted against Dean’s shirt.

    Dean relaxed into the hug, letting one hand hang around the angel’s shoulders while the other cradled his head. They stayed like that until the tiredness from the monotony of driving caught up with Dean. He pried Cas off of himself and sat on the bed, where he removed his shoes and jacket. Cas stood in the doorway, watching him. When he was done, Dean beckoned Cas over to him, then took both of the angel’s hands in his. It was nice to look up rather than down at Cas.

    “Sure you don’t want to wait?” He asked, just in case Cas doubted Dean’s sincerity about the irrelevance of his vessel.

    “Very.” Cas responded, climbing onto Dean’s lap and forcing Dean to scoot backward so they didn’t end up in a heap of limbs on the floor.

    “Okay.”

    Dean pushed Cas’ hair behind his ears, framed the angel’s face in his hands, and pulled him into a real, needy kiss. Cas was enthusiastic, and soon Dean found himself pinned down against the bed, his body in pleasurable torture.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't write smut, so have fun imagining whatever it is they get up to ;)  
> ~  
> As always, if there are any grammar/spelling/weirdness errors let me know!


	8. Chapter 8

    The next day passed easily. Dean and Cas spent the remaining drive in comfortable silence, except for the handful of times Cas got bored out of his mind. Then, he’d mess with Dean, ever so subtly. First, the tape deck blipped in and out a few times, forcing Dean to unload, check, and reload the tape. When it played just fine, Dean grumped about it until Cas suggested the cause was a bump in the road a few miles back.

    The next thing Dean noticed was his mirrors were off-kilter. How the hell that had happened without his noticing, he had no idea. He’d had to pull off the highway to fix those. Throughout the day Baby would experience more of these weird things, until finally the steering wheel began to trail left as though the axel were misaligned. That’s when Dean knew something _supernatural_ was up. Baby hadn’t had a misaligned axel under Dean’s careful watch.

    The third time Dean readjusted the car, he caught Cas’ finger twitching unusually in the corner of his eye. The forth time, he watched Cas’ finger follow the movement of the car. The fifth time, Dean had him.

    “You sneaky bastard.” Dean snapped, slapping as Cas’ hand, “Quit messin’ with my car.

    Cas burst into a fit of giggles.  

    It was a while before boredom struck the angel again, but when it did, Dean had a small stuffed bear floating in and out of view in his rearview mirror.

    “Go to sleep, damnit.” Dean snapped as he reached out and snatched the bear from the air.

    “Can’t.” Cas replied cheekily.

    Dean’s shoes proceeded to untie themselves.

    Dean was grateful that Cas didn’t get in this giddy, prankster mood very often. Angels had too much power.

    Finally, they reached the bunker. The car Sam liked to use when without Dean—a modern Ford Mustang, just to spite his brother—was parked in its usual spot, indicating that Sam and Rowena were waiting inside.

    Cas removed the ingredients they’d collected from the glove box, and moved to leave the car. Dean’s hand on his wrist stopped him. In a hushed voice, Dean explained his and Sam’s suspicions about Rowena. Cas tucked the ingredients into one bag, handing the worry stone to Dean since it wasn’t required for the spell. The necklace remained where Cas had refastened it that morning.

    Before letting Cas go, Dean brought him in for another kiss.

    Then, they went to find Sam and Rowena.


	9. Chapter 9

    “What a disappointment. I was just beginning to hope you’d been eaten by Bigfoot.” Rowena greeted them in a tone indicating she was anything but disappointed.

    She was seated at the library table, Sam on the opposite side. Between them was a cauldron, already steaming, and the Black Grimoire. Dean was glad to see that Sam had one hand firmly placed on the open book. 

    When Rowena’s eyes found Cas, her face lit up in a way that made Dean sick to his stomach.

    Ugh. Witches.

    “Ah, aren’t you _darling_.” Rowena crooned, hurrying to catch Cas in the doorway.

    Dean rolled his eyes, walking over to and making a gagging face at Sam, who shrugged with equal distaste in his expression and pointed at the cauldron.

    “She started mixing what she could, but we had to stop ‘cause you guys have the next thing on the list.”

    “Good thing I’m always on time.” Dean joked, dumping his duffle on the floor and taking the seat next to Sam.

    He’d deal with putting things away when this mess was over. And get himself a beer.

    “Does she have to go?” Rowena pouted, turning around to glare at the brothers, as though it were their fault Cas was in this situation.

    Dean didn’t like her attitude considering he knew Cas had gotten himself messed up, nor did he like that she was touching Cas’ hair. Judging by Cas’ face, he didn’t like it either.

    “Yes.” All three of them answered.

    “Fine.” Rowena whined, returning to the table while Cas stood behind Dean.

    The angel placed a hand on Dean’s shoulder, then handed him the still-closed bag of ingredients. Dean checked that everything was still in there while Rowena explained some tedious magic rule that required her to use the snakeskin and _only_ the snakeskin next. Dean handed it to her, and as he did, the worry stone slipped from his hand, landing with a clatter on the table.

    “What’s that?” Sam asked, snatching the rock before Dean could pick it up.

    “It’s a worry stone.” Cas explained while Dean battled his brother to get it back.

    “Ah, those don’t work.” Rowena scoffed.

    “Alright Miss Magic, get a move on.” Dean snapped, succeeding in taking the stone back from Sam.

    “It reminds me of something.” Sam said pensively, and Dean mentally crossed his fingers that his brother wouldn’t figure it out.

    It didn’t matter if the stone _worked_. It reminded Dean of his angel, which was all the stone needed for it to have significance. Rowena and Sam could fuck right off.

    A squeeze on his shoulder drew his attention from busily shoving the stone into his pocket. Dean straightened and looked up at Cas. The angel smiled briefly at him before returning his attention to the witch.

    Rowena mixed in the snakeskin, then added a few more things she’d fetched, before requesting the gemstone they’d retrieved from the elder lady in Colorado. Finally, Rowena requested the feminine object which belonged to Cas. The angel unfastened the necklace from his neck, gave the large stone a parting kiss, and passed it over. His hand returned to Dean’s shoulder, and without thought the man placed his own hand on top of Cas’, squeezing reassuringly. It couldn’t be easy for Cas to hand over something so sentimental to him with the knowledge that it would be destroyed.

    “Well, that’s all but one.” Rowena said, looking over the book one more time before giving Cas a mischievous grin.

    “All we need is a true love’s kiss!” The witch crowed, weaving her fingers together and placing her chin on them.

    She batted her eyes at Cas.

    “Wait, is that actually in there?” Sam asked, turning the book around and trying his best to interpret what was written on the page.

    “Would I lie to you, Samuel?” Rowena chastised, to which all three responded in the affirmative once again.

    Cas leaned over Dean to read the page, his hair curtaining in front of Dean’s face so that he couldn’t see anything except waves of brown. Instinctively, he reached out and tucked Cas’ hair behind his ear, so his face was revealed. Cas’ eyes were roaming the page, and one he found what he was looking for, he looked over at Dean, a slight blush rising to his cheeks.

    “She’s right. And it looks like I need to do it as soon as possible for the spell to take effect.” Cas said only to Dean.

    Then Cas turned and kissed him. Dean reached up and framed Cas’ cheek in his hand, brushing a thumb over soft skin. Soft skin which he could feel becoming scratchy with stubble. Cas’ jawline solidified un his palm, and Dean felt hair brush past as it shrunk. He leaned back and opened his eyes to see a familiar face looking back.

    “Hey.” Dean whispered as his brain caught up with the rush of joy he felt.

    “Hello.” Cas replied, voice as rough as ever.

     He leaned out of Dean’s personal space, which reminded the man that they had company. When his eyes met Rowena’s, he didn’t miss her exaggerated frown of disappointment.

    “And here I was hoping the angel had picked the wrong person.” She griped.

    “In your dreams.” Cas said, taking the words right out of Dean’s mouth.

    Rowena grumbled something about ungrateful angels, then began to clean up from the spell. Dean decided to unpack his duffle, so he and Cas abandoned Sam to babysit the fox in the chicken coop. In his room, he unpacked his stuff while Cas gave back the stuff he’d borrowed, then disappeared into his own room to put his own stuff away. When he didn’t come back after what Dean assumed was plenty of time for a supernatural being to unpack, Dean sought him out.

    When he opened the almost-closed door, he found Cas sitting on his bed, hoodie hanging over the desk chair, shoes piled on the floor, duffle nowhere to be seen. The angel didn’t look up when Dean walked in. Dean sat next to him, but didn’t touch him. Not because he didn’t want to, but because he could tell that something was bothering Cas.

    “Got everything put away?” Dean asked, wondering if Cas would cheer up through general conversation.

    “Yes.” Cas said, eyes still on the floor.

    Alright, he was gonna need some coaxing. Dean took a breath, then asked,

    “What’s up?”

    Cas glanced up at him, and Dean felt a spike of desire in his gut. Jeeze, was he thrilled to see that face again. Cas smiled shyly at the floor.

    “I’m guess I’m nervous that you’ve changed your mind.”

    “Cas.” Dean allowed his tone to communicate his disapproval.

    The angel looked up, hope written on his face. Dean took Cas’ hands in his and drew the angel close, until they were sharing air.

    “I love you, dumbass.”

    “I love you, _Dean._ ” Cas said, judging Dean’s use of words.

    They shared a grin, then Dean pulled his angel into another kiss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed this story as much as I did.  
> <3 sherlockwolf


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